Chapter 12
Kandace
I t seems that my heart stops beating when I get to the bottom of the basement stairs.
The room that was once covered in wood paneling is now drywalled.
The suspended ceiling is gone, the rafters and pipes now painted black.
The change makes the room seem larger and more modern.
My anxiety rises at the absence of a large pool table, one that had not been used in decades.
The problem with this situation is that the pool table held the boxes and containers of merchandise.
I carried them down here myself as Ruth didn’t often go down into the basement.
In reality, this house became too large for one person.
Flipping switches, I move to the other rooms. They are all connected one to the other, separated only by doors.
The second room is smaller. In her younger years, Ruth used this room for crafts—sewing and scrapbooking.
The table and shelves are gone. As with the first room, the paneling is now painted drywall.
Why didn’t I think about this merchandise before now?
My pulse is racing at the notion of explaining the missing inventory.
Who will believe I’m responsible enough to run Quintessential Treasures if I can’t keep track of the inventory?
My steps slow as I open the last door.
Flipping the switch, I bring light to what could mostly be described as the furnace room. This room is much like it was before. I inhale, seeing the boxes stacked in the corner opposite the water heater. Quintessential Treasures is written in marker on their sides.
I hurry to the stack and pull down the top box as my heart attempts its normal rhythm. Opening the flaps, I peer inside and exhale. One by one, I look in each box. This is some of the inventory I’m missing.
Sitting on the floor, I drop my forehead to my knees.
It isn’t all present.
With my head pounding, I try to recall the items listed back at the store as tears come to my eyes.
There were half a dozen holiday-themed quilts made by a woman in a neighboring county.
I recalled stocking caps and mittens knitted by a group of women at the local nursing home.
They knit all year long to raise money to buy gifts at Christmas.
My chest is heavy, as I stand.
I have savings, savings I planned to use in the renovation of the space over the store.
It won’t matter. Losing this merchandise will be the final straw, taking away my dreams. I take one last look at the boxes.
Tomorrow after the store closes, I’ll come by and get them.
By Sunday, I should know who I owe, and on Monday, I’ll arrange a personal payment to reimburse the missing items.
Turning off the light, I close my eyes, ready to go home and finish what remains of Mom’s hidden wine stash.
“Shit!”
My scream comes out as I run face-first into a brick wall.
“Oh shit,” I mumble, backing away and looking up at what isn’t a brick wall, but a solid wide chest—an exposed, solid wide chest. My mouth goes dry as I look up at the man I once thought I loved, the man with the same golden eyes as our daughter.
I can’t help but assess that my brother is wrong. Dax is not soft.
“Kandace?”
Hearing my name from his lips is the final blow to my awful day.
“You scared the shit out of me.” My head is shaking. “What are you doing here?” It’s then I notice the small baseball bat in his hand. “Why do you have a child’s bat?”
Other than my name, Dax hasn’t said a word.
Yet I feel his stare, the way he’s looking at me, the same as I felt on me at the softball game.
Now, instead of being yards away, he’s right here.
Close enough to touch. His face is even more handsome close up.
His blond hair is longer than it was. His cheekbones are as prominent and his strong, chiseled jaw is set.
This is not good.
This is bad.
Inhaling, I stand taller. “I need to leave.”
As I push past Dax, I notice the scent of bodywash and despite not trying to look, I see that he’s barefoot, wearing only a pair of nylon shorts. I need to get out of here before my emotions get the better of me.
Yes, I’m tired and dirty and sad and upset, but a new emotion is rearing its head. I’m pissed.
How dare Daxton Richards think he can waltz back into Riverbend. And how dare my body and heart betray me by yearning for someone who was never mine.
I make it to the stairs when Dax is behind me.
“Wait, Kandace.”
Straightening my neck, I turn and set my gaze on his. “For what, Dax?”
His head is shaking. “I’m here because the Inn Suites in Washington is crap. Why are you here?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m sure you’ll learn about it soon enough from Mr. Murphy.”
He leans the bat against the wall. “You’re here because of Quintessential Treasures?”
I nod. “Ruth and I stored some of the merchandise here, and I should have thought about it when the contractors started working on the house, but I’ve been a little busy and I didn’t.
” I lift my chin toward the furnace room.
“Those boxes belong to the store. If you’ll let me get them back there, I can come back when you’re not here. ”
“I don’t understand, why would Mr. Murphy tell me that?”
My resolve is waning.
“Because he asked for an updated inventory this morning. There were more things here, totes, big ones, and obviously, they’re gone. I’ll repay the store and the sellers. It’s my fault they’re missing.”
His lips make a slight grin. “I saw some totes upstairs. Do you want to see if they’re the ones you’re looking for?”
Go upstairs with a nearly naked Dax Richards?
Hell no.
“I should go.” I take the first step on the stairs when Dax reaches for my arm. My eyes go to the place he’s touching, and again my body betrays me. His touch is electric while also safe and familiar. Mostly, it’s unwanted. I meet his gaze. “Don’t touch me, Dax.”
Immediately, he releases my arm. “I can look in the totes and send you pictures. Let me get your number.”
My eyes narrow. “It never changed. Don’t worry about it. I’ll ask Justin to come and get the boxes and he can look in the totes.”
“I could bring them to the store tomorrow,” he offers.
“Don’t bother.”
I’m up the staircase and out to the breezeway when I hear him call.
“Wait, Kandace, I’ve been thinking about you.”
The anger wins as I spin around.
In only shorts, he’s standing in the doorway to the house a few feet higher than where I’m standing. My eyes narrow as I lie. “I haven’t thought about you. Sign off on the store or don’t. I’m not waiting for your decision to plan my life.”
The windows on one side of the breezeway lead out to a slate patio. On the other side is the door I entered earlier. My hand is on the doorknob.
He comes closer, taking one step at a time. “Who is Molly?”